Fri 31 Oct, 2008
1
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“Please make sure your seat belts are securely fastened.”
Cassie Barrister sat up straight and switched off her mp3 player. Outside her window, blue skies and morning sunlight faded away as the small plane descended toward Oxnard, California. It slipped into the same fog that had trailed under them during most of the short flight from LA; except now the gray was tainted with drab orange to an extent that worried her. A wildfire burned in the mountains to the north, she knew; it had broken out days earlier, and still wasn’t contained. She had followed the news reports along the way, but never expected it to look so bad…or so close. Too close for comfort, she thought with a frown, studying the familiar landmarks of Ventura County.
Agriculture and cityscapes spread out below, a patchwork quilt covered with a veil of smoky mist. The surly dullness of the sky reflected off the surface of the ocean, the way a bad mood travels from one person to another. Cassie’s lip quirked wryly as she settled back against her seat. I sure hope that’s not a preview of my week.
The plane touched down with a light bump, and Cassie forgot her worries as a current of excitement skipped through her. She ran her hands over her long, unruly blond waves in an attempt to smooth them, and did the same for the Atlanta baseball jersey she wore over a tank top and jeans. The results weren’t fabulous, but close enough. Hefting her backpack to the empty seat beside her, she pulled out her phone and sent a text message to her family, friends, and social networks:
The eagle has landed
~~~
Jeff Barrister glanced at his cousin’s message, smiled, then put the phone back up to his ear.
“I’m not surprised,” he said, continuing his conversation. “You can’t tell me you weren’t expecting this.”
“Oh, I was,” drawled the voice of Rusty Norman, his friend and business partner. “Like in ten years. But, dude. Barrister-Norman Security the way it is now?”
“Why not?”
“Cuz, we’re still a startup, mostly local business.”
“We’re going global.”
“Yeah, but, nobody else knows that.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Jeff’s mouth. “Apparently someone suspects it.”
“Okay. So, uh…if they ask, are we gonna sell?”
“Over my dead body.”
Rusty chuckled. “Glad you’re the one to make the sacrifice. I don’t wanna sell the company either, but I value my person a little higher than that.”
Jeff grinned and leaned back against his black Mustang convertible, letting his gaze wander around the airport parking lot. The fog cast a dingy pall over the surrounding fields, and lent a chill to the breeze that toyed with the rolled-up sleeves of his casual shirt. But it couldn’t dampen his energy. Starting his vacation with the news that a big-name investor wanted to buy up Barrister-Norman stock was almost as renewing as the vacation itself. He kept one eye on the terminal doors, and went back to his conversation.
“Well, tell your dad thanks for the heads up, and add my appreciation that he didn’t sell his shares.”
“What?” Rusty’s voice was incredulous. “Sell out the business that’s kept his son from wild living? Not on your life.” There was a pause. “Speaking of wild living. I’m taking off for the week. I had the office redirect all my calls to your voice mail.”
“Thanks a lot. Where you headed?”
“I’m thinking Rio-o-o.”
“Think about your travel budget for the security expo.”
“Fine, make it Reno.”
“Have a good time.”
“Say hi to Cass O’Wary for me. Thank God someone else has to deal with you for a week.”
“Bye, Russ.”
The call ended. Jeff straightened and put his phone in his pocket, then strolled toward the terminal.
~~~
Once the plane came to a stop, passengers began scuttling for their belongings. Cassie picked up her backpack and rose to leave. When she started into the aisle, a man stepped in her way, nearly striking her with his elbow as he reached for the luggage bin.
“Hey!” she exclaimed, ducking.
“Whoa, sorry–” he began; but stopped.
Cassie looked up into dark, dusty-blue eyes behind wire-frame glasses, shaded by the brim of a baseball cap. He was in his late twenties; possibly nice-looking, but it was hard to tell, with jaw-length, dirty-blond hair scraggling out around his face. He wore a red jacket over a slouchy t-shirt and jeans; everything rumpled, as if he had traveled through several time zones.
His eyes were fixed on her. She raised her eyebrows questioningly.
“Sorry…didn’t mean to stare,” he said, his voice quiet and unassuming. His gaze flickered across her face. “It’s just…you remind me of someone.”
“Um, that’s okay.” She peered back. Something about him pricked at her memory, too…as if she had known him once, a long time ago. “Have we met?”
“No.” He smiled. “I would have remembered.” His eyes held hers for another second. Then, catching sight of the line-up of agitated passengers, he pulled his suitcase down and moved into the row ahead of her. “Hey, on the off-chance we have a mutual friend or something…” He drew a note pad and pen out of his pocket and began scribbling. “Here’s my e-mail. Maybe we could keep in touch?”
Cassie hesitated, scanning his appearance and her instinct. He seemed eager, almost worried she would say no. She relaxed a little. “Sure,” she replied, and fished in her backpack for a card. “That’s my social network stuff. Say hi on Twitter or something sometime.”
“Cassie Barrister,” he read, and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Cassie Barrister.”
“You too…” she glanced at the paper he had handed her. “Bud Thomas.”
“Buddy.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I better get a move on. Sorry for the–you know. Altercation. Catch you later.” With a quick wave of his hand, he walked away.
Cassie’s gaze trailed after him. She noticed a logo on the back of his jacket, Thunderbird Lore. An indie rock band–she had seen them play last spring. Maybe he was with the band…that would explain the sensation she had seen him before.
He ducked his head and disappeared through the hatch. Cassie hauled her backpack over one shoulder and went to retrieve the rest of her luggage from the back of the plane.
She found a traffic jam of strollers to reckon with; so by the time she claimed her large duffel bag, she was the last one to descend the stair to the tarmac. A rush of coastal air ruffled her bangs, bearing a taste of smoke that bit at the back of her throat. Her new friend was nowhere to be seen, but she caught sight of her tall, dark-haired cousin as soon as she entered the terminal.
“Howdy, stranger!” Jeff called out.
Grinning, Cassie dropped her duffel and gave him a big hug. “Lookin’ good, cuz! How’s life treating you?”
“Pretty well, as a matter of fact. You?”
“Tons better now that I’m here.” She sighed. “Dude, it’s almost the All Star break. It’s crazy at the park–crazy, I tell you.”
“Doesn’t that mean you’re doing your job right?”
“Not crazy-busy. Just plain crazy.”
Jeff chuckled as he bent to pick up her bag. She studied him protectively, a once-over glance to see how he looked. A lot had changed in his life since she last saw him, six months earlier. She wondered how much it had changed him.
He was still fit and athletic; but his face had grown a little leaner since December. A deeper level of maturity engraved the lines around his mouth and eyes, hovered in the expression of his face. He’d turn thirty next month, and for the first time he looked his age. Cassie felt a whisper of mortality, which dampened her spirits a little.
But then Jeff grinned with a twinkle in his blue-gray eyes as he hoisted her duffel from the floor. “Hmm, brought your pet elephant, I see.”
She relaxed. He was still the same old Jeff. She slid a pair of sunglasses onto the top of her head and replied, “Never leave town without it.”
Dodging the travelers crowded in front of the car rental counter, they fell into step together and headed for the door.
“How’s the party going?” Cassie asked. “Did you come all the way back from the valley?”
“Nah, haven’t left yet. Had to meet with a client yesterday. Last I heard, the rest of the Barristers started the family reunion without us. We missed the kick-off sing-along and sack race.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Trying to be diplomatic,” he chuckled. “So how was the flight?”
“Good–had a storm in Atlanta, but clear sailing the rest of the way…” her voice trailed off as she scanned people around them. “Hey, did you see a guy in a red jacket?”
“You mean getting off the plane? Yeah, I think so–baseball hat?”
“That’s him. Know where he is?”
“Left as I was coming in.” He grinned at her. “Why?”
“No reason.” She caught his expression. “Really, just curious.”
“Uh huh.”
She rolled her eyes and preceded him through the exit.
“Wow, it’s crowded,” Cassie remarked, glancing around the parking lot as she dropped into the passenger seat of his car.
Jeff put her bags in the back and sat behind the wheel. “Last week of June–people are traveling for the Fourth. See him?”
“No.” Her head snapped around. “I mean…see who?”
Jeff laughed.
“Ha. Yeah.” Cassie slid her sunglasses down to the bridge of her nose and settled back with her arms crossed.
Jeff guided his car onto the road. As farms and fields flew past, they discussed family, the fire, the guy on the plane. Cassie relaxed against the seat with contentment. It was just good to be home, and hang out with Jeff. He was the closest she had to a sibling, and she had missed him.
Once the car blended with Saturday highway traffic, she spotted a billboard movie ad that made her perk up.
The words From the creators of ‘The Baker Street Boys’ and the name Ryan Wainwright were splashed above a bold title: Maitland’s Vow. A handsome man stood against a background of explosions, holding a gun in one hand. His sharp, masculine features were soiled with sweat and dirt. Brown hair was slicked back from his forehead, and tumbled around the collar of a loose white shirt, open at the chest. Striking pale blue eyes challenged the camera. Emblazoned across the bottom of the billboard was the tagline:
Death is not an end. It’s the beginning of vengeance. July 4th.
“Ooh, Maitland’s Vow!” Cassie exclaimed. “I can’t wait! Ryan Wainwright is awesome!”
Jeff glanced aside at the billboard. “Baker Street was pretty good, I’ll give him that.”
“Yeah, pretty good, they almost gave him Best Actor for it,” she grinned.
“He wrote the script, didn’t he?”
“Co-wrote, with what’s-his-name, that guy I can never remember. But Ryan wrote and produced Maitland on his own.” She turned around in her seat as they passed, and studied the poster until it disappeared from view.
“You want to see it this weekend?” Jeff asked, turning off at the exit for the valley.
“Yeah, duh. How about Friday–that’d be perfect.”
He looked at her askance. “Didn’t you read the reunion brochure? There’s a big party on Friday.”
“Um. I kinda never opened it.” She saw her cousin’s eyebrow rise above his sunglasses, and added quickly, “Hey, I was busy. Besides, I figured nobody would turn me away.”
“You were lucky.”
“Pfft,” she countered, and settled back into her seat with a grin.
As they traveled inland, cool fog gave way to a cloudless sky. Cassie clipped her hair up into a chignon at the back of her head as warm, dry air pelted her face, promising higher temperatures at their destination. Despite blazing sunshine, the sky wasn’t blue–she raised her sunglasses to see it tinged with yellow overhead, and brown to the north. Beyond the mountains, a funnel of smoke rose like a tornado frozen in place…a surreal reminder that danger was close.
They drove in silence for a while. It had been years since Cassie saw the valley; she mulled over past days as shimmering towns skipped by, blending into dusty orchards in shades of green and gray. Before long, rugged hills closed in, giving a sense of detachment from the rest of the world. The feeling amplified when Jeff left the highway for quiet streets that seemed to be trapped in another time. Cassie watched with interest as the colorful walls and decorative woodwork of early 20th-century homes glimmered from behind canopies of oak trees.
One more turn took them through the entrance of a private road. Stone walls and black, wrought-iron gates guarded either side, bearing bronze signs: The Rosewood Inn. Swaying eucalyptus trees bordered the drive; Cassie breathed in their spicy fragrance, then caught her breath as the road curved, giving her an unimpaired view of a towering Victorian mansion.
““““““““““““““““““
(c) 2009 Christine Taylor & Stacy J-M Taylor, all rights reserved
<— Back to Prologue ~or~ Follow the writing and publication process on my blog
Zack "The Mothman" Daggy says:
Very cool. I must read the rest.
Kudos on Rosewood. Can’t wait for the finished novel.
Cheers!
CJ (RhythmHippy) says:
Ok, you would, wouldn’t you! Just go ahead and tease me with this opener…can’t WAIT to read the whole book! Well done!
Steaders says:
hooked!
Ontario Emperor says:
Enjoying it.
waterrose says:
Great beginning now I need to read the rest!
mousewords says:
Thank you, to everyone!
Tessa says:
More! More!
Susan Reynolds says:
I was sure I commented earlier but better late than never. This is a wonderful piece of writing and I can’t wait to have the whole thing!
mousewords says:
Thank you!!
Daena says:
Amazing, but then I knew it would be! I can’t wait to read the rest!
Evelyn Cole says:
Looks great so far. I’ll keep checking on your progress.